


like the sea in a jar

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [137]
Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe, Backstory, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Family Drama, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Timelines that don't match but I wave all the hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter stormed into Neal’s loft without even knocking and demanded, “Did you know he was Damien Moreau’s right hand!?” </p><p>Neal didn’t even look up from his sketchbook. “Of course I did, Peter. I introduced them.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the sea in a jar

**Author's Note:**

> Title: like the sea in a jar  
> Fandom: White Collar/Leverage  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton  
> Warnings: AU for both fandoms, but not a lot. Just taking advantage of two characters with the same last name; mentions of violence; timelines that don’t really mesh but I’m handwaving; implied unfaithfulness  
> Pairings: Eliot/Neal, mentions of Neal/Kate, Peter/Elizabeth, maybe some implied Peter/Neal  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1080  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: White Collar/Burn Notice or Chuck or Leverage, any, Peter hates it when Neal's old friend comes to town

The first time Peter sees him, Neal has just said goodbye, kissed him, and waved as he walked away. The man was shorter than Neal but broader, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. His hair, dark brown, was pulled back in a ponytail. 

Peter didn't think anything of it, really. So long as Neal's personal life didn't affect the Bureau or their cases - 

Okay, fine, he thought a lot about it. No need to be so smug, _Elizabeth_. 

.

The second time, Peter saw the man's cold blue eyes and steely smirk as Neal shoved him towards the door, muttering, "Come back later, after work, you lug." 

The man laughed, whiskey silk smooth and rough at the same time, and said, "Later, babe," kissing Neal on the lips quickly before sauntering down the stairs. 

Peter knew that face from somewhere, but it slipped his mind when Neal got himself shot later that night. 

.

Two days later, the goon who shot Neal before diving into a crowd of civilians to get away turned up on the Bureau's front step. Both his legs were broken, his hands duct-taped together, and the rest of him had been worked over professionally.

Peter thought a lot about it during Neal’s recovery, but the mystery man didn’t show his face again for months. 

.

The third time, Peter was flipping through a list of known associates for Sofia Yelenez, a con woman who eclipsed even Neal, and saw the man’s face glaring at him: Eliot Spencer, retrieval expert. 

Of course, Peter pulled his file. 

.

Peter stormed into Neal’s loft without even knocking and demanded, “Did you know he was Damien Moreau’s right hand!?” 

Neal didn’t even look up from his sketchbook. “Of course I did, Peter. I introduced them.” 

That… was not what he expected and his righteous anger deflated. “What?” 

Neal did look up then, a small smile on his face. “You don’t know everything about me, Peter, or who I was when I ran with him.” He shrugged. “But that life is gone now.” He focused back on his sketchbook and Peter gently closed the door behind him as he left.

.

The fourth time, Neal introduced them. “Eliot Donovan, my former keeper,” he said grandly, “meet Peter Burke, my current keeper.” 

“Agent Burke,” Eliot said, giving Peter a good handshake and not trying to break his hand. “Good to meet you, sir.” 

“You, too,” Peter replied, not letting a single thing he felt show on his face or his body language. 

Eliot smirked at him, though, and asked, “He tell you how we hooked up?” 

Neal said, “That’s not a story for polite company, Donny,” grabbing him by the hand and tugging him away. 

Neal managed to keep them separated for the rest of the night, all the while playing host for June’s dinner party. And Eliot (Donny? Could that be his real name? Surely not… or maybe the name he used while Neal was – whatever Neal was.) just kept looking at Peter and smirking. 

.

The fifth time, Sofia Yelenez and her entire team were in Neal’s loft when Peter opened the door.

He didn’t even try to arrest any of them, just sighed and turned around, saying, “I’ll come back later, Neal. Try not to break any laws until then.” 

.

The sixth time, Eliot knocked on Peter’s front door and Elizabeth let him in. Peter was immediately on his feet when he heard that voice drawl, “Thank you, ma’am.” He scrambled for his gun, but it was safely locked away and he knew it’d be pointless, even if he had it. He’d need an entire SWAT team to take down Eliot Spencer, and even that might not be enough. 

“Agent Burke,” Eliot said. “I need a minute of your time.” 

“Is this…” El asked. “Should I go upstairs?” 

Eliot shrugged. “I don’t care if you hear, ma’am. It’s about Neal.” His lips twisted, like he couldn’t decide if he should grimace or smile. “He was Noah Lafferty when we met, still just a kid who liked to draw.” He paused, glancing away, at El, and then back at Peter. “He was boy trying to be a man, and he had a gift for pissing off the wrong people.” 

“Have a seat,” Peter said, gesturing towards the armchair. “This sounds like it’ll be long.” 

Nodding, Eliot said, “’bout ten years, give or take. Not consecutive, but that’s about how long we were together, added up.” 

“He introduced you to Damien Moreau in those ten years?” Peter asked, pulling Elizabeth in close. 

Eliot chuckled, but it didn’t sound that mirthful. “Is that what the kid told you?” He shook his head. “I kept Damien from executing him when it came out that my stupid-ass partner was dating Damien’s only daughter on the side.” 

“What,” Peter said after a moment. “That couldn’t - _what_?” 

“If Damien hadn’t been distracted by my team and then imprisoned by the people he’d been oppressing…” Eliot shrugged again. “When Katie died, New York would’ve been washed in blood.” He looked down at his hands. “She was a good kid, but so much like her father. If I didn’t let Neal make mistakes, though, he’d never learn.”

Peter couldn’t think of a thing to say. 

“That’s not why I’m here,” Eliot said when the silence got too awkward. 

“You mentioned something about Neal having a gift for making enemies,” El said, squeezing Peter’s hand. 

Eliot nodded again. “My team and I have something in place to bring down the entire reason I ever met Neal. I’m offering you the chance to be the agent who brings the scumbag in.”

“Tell me everything,” Peter said. 

.

The seventh time, Neal introduced Eliot’s team, and Parker followed Elizabeth around like a duckling with Hardison trailing in their wake, and Sophie chatted with June about art, and Nate discussed cases with Peter. 

“You happy, kid?” Eliot asked quietly, tapping the toe of his boot to Neal’s ankle, where the tracking device was still whirring away. 

“I am,” Neal replied, smiling.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] like the sea in a jar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343278) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins), [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf)




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